


Imprints

by razielim



Series: Merry Smutmas 2017 [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Past Abuse, Smutty Memories, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-11 19:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12941931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razielim/pseuds/razielim
Summary: Merry Smutmas, mopheadedlumberjack!There’s a chance this can work now. There’s a chance that with everything now out in the open, with things damaged beyond repair between him and Lotor, this budding tenderness between him and Keith can bloom, given some time. It’s hard, though, not to feel the Lotor’s presence lingering in every touch. Even with all the bad, there had been so much good.





	Imprints

Shiro touched Keith with just the very tips of his fingerpads, and that was already enough and too much in this moment. He felt reduced down to nothing but sensations — the warm, dry slide of Keith’s faintly goosebumped skin, the brush of hairs too delicate to see without a close study, the warmth transferring up into Shiro.

He couldn’t help but to think of all the times that he’d touched Lotor like this. The difference was that it had never been part of the main event. Lotor couldn’t ever abide to restrain himself long enough to explore, to experience, to drown in simply touching when there was pleasure to be had. He’d asked once, _“Does it get you off?”_ and when Shiro had said it didn’t, that was the end of that discussion. There was no more room for it in Lotor’s time. It was something Shiro was allowed to do while Lotor recovered from fucking, sleepy and pliant and acquiescing.

Or maybe Lotor had tolerated it once upon a time. At the beginning, when they’d first met at the VA, when things weren’t all about sex. Maybe. It was hard to remember that far back.

Keith watched him without any hint that he cared at all about the erection laying across his own belly, his thumbs softly brushing Shiro’s thighs just under the hems of Shiro’s cotton trunks. Keith blinked slowly, each brush of endless, dark lashes like the patient slide of a glacier — he had all the time in the world to spend in just the action of watching.

Shiro flushed with flattered pleasure at the effortless attention.

 _“Does it get you off?”_ Lotor had asked.

Maybe a little, tonight.

Keith’s skin was much paler than Lotor’s, and it was obvious where the blood was spreading beneath the skin as a beacon of want. Warm pink flushed Keith’s cheeks and chest and shoulders, and Shiro wondered if he should hurry it up.

Keith, however, continued his slow blinking like the sex flush wasn’t his and he wanted nothing to do with it.

If Keith was ever in a rush for anything, it was to talk. Not about himself. He stubbornly disliked to talk about himself more than strictly necessary, actually. But he wanted to talk about Lotor. About Shiro. About whether Shiro was sure he was where he wanted to be. Keith liked to solve problems before they got unmanageable, but he didn’t go over details obsessively once they were settled. At work, Keith never needled him, never passive-aggressively presented a question from multiple directions. He asked what he wanted to ask as many times as it took to properly address an issue, and then the matter was settled.

Shiro smiled a little.

Still headstrong. Maybe Shiro had a type. But a world of difference from Lotor, who had an uncanny gift for asking questions from many different approaches until he got the answer he would prefer above all others, discarding all other answers as merely temporary confusions that Shiro suffered from.

Keith slid a hand into the leg of Shiro’s underwear, spread fingers brushing all the hair there until he got to Shiro’s cock, lightly gripping under the head with index and middle fingers and pressing his thumb to the slit, massaging.

Shiro pulled his hands away and grinned. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to stop. I just wanted to touch too.”

Hesitating, Shiro placed his hands on Keith’s biceps and, closing his eyes, let himself experience the shifting in Keith’s arms as Keith continued to fondle him, his touch firm but so small and purposeless it was hardly even teasing.

It hadn’t been like this, the first night, back before Keith had shown up at his work one sunny day, introduced as the new apprentice.

That first night, barely remembering each other’s names, both past tipsy and well into the realm of drunkenness where all touches feel good and all body parts must immediately be nibbled, kissed, or licked, they’d rolled around wheezing with laughter, Keith groaning nonstop about how Shiro was the sexiest man he’d ever landed, Shiro insisting over and over that this was the most fun he’d ever had in bed.

There hadn’t been any time to softly touch or breathe until after they’d both crumpled in a heap, panting and chuckling. It was only when Keith finally fell asleep that Shiro allowed himself the pleasure of committing to memory this beautiful person, this beautiful human soul who had shared something special with him, if only for a night.

It had been such a shock to see Keith walk in the door three days later, sober and fresh and excited at 8am on a Monday.

His skin had been luminescent in the sunlit space of the woodshop and Shiro’s breathing had stopped.

With a pang of guilt and longing, Shiro remembered Lotor’s hair lit by the warm light in the workshop, its dazzling white a heavenly terror. Beautiful beyond all words and yet painful to look at.

The first time he’d seen it like that had been Shiro’s first day as an apprentice. Lotor had helped him secure the position with the master woodworker. In a life-changing twist, the man Shiro had looked up to for years had turned out to be Lotor’s family friend. They’d walked into the fragrant room together and Shiro felt like he was home for the first time in a long time. Maybe since before he was first deployed, even. Years later, he could still close his eyes and relive that moment perfectly. The smell of cedar and varnish, the hum of tools, and Lotor’s long, shining hair, staticky that day from the weather, floating up to Shiro’s neck and tickling it faintly.

“Where are you?” Keith was gazing up at him, a fond smile on his face. Odds were, he knew perfectly well, but was saving Shiro from the shame of hearing it out loud. Shiro hated himself for not being present, not following the progress of his fingers onto Keith’s wrists where he’d apparently been exploring the bones.

He’d gotten so accustomed to not needing to be present during sex.

“I’m sorry.”

Keith smiled again, and this time it was a little sad. “Don’t be.”

With a hiss of skin on skin, Shiro ran his hands up Keith’s arms to grip his shoulders, lowering himself down to kiss him. Keith hummed into it, thumb rubbing in a deliberate circle on Shiro’s cocktip, pulling at the slit and then pressing tightly against it, making Shiro gasp, twitching involuntarily in Keith’s hand.

Lotor had sounded him.

Slipped rods of cool metal right into him where they seemed to hum against his body temperature.

It had been one of the very last times they’d been together. After Shiro had walked out on him, breaking it off, after he’d gone out to the bar and met Keith, after he’d panicked, feeling lonely from his one night stand and scared that Lotor would pressure Coran into dismissing Shiro. That job was the only thing Shiro had ever needed so desperately for his own and the thought of losing it had started to wreck him. Almost like he’d sensed it, Lotor had shown up, reminding Shiro of all the soft, fond moments they’d shared, the nightmares Lotor had woken him from, the meetings at the VA Lotor had made him go to when Shiro dreaded getting out of bed.

And then, one thing had revolved dizzyingly into another, the situation switching out of his control, and he’d found himself with his wrists tied to the headboard and a slick, cold sound dropping into his urethra. Shiro’s nerves had been shot for days after that, as he’d tried to remember if that experience had been something he’d wanted or something he’d been talked into yet again by Lotor’s silver tongue.

Shiro had been a soldier.

Lotor had been a spy.

The difference was most obvious whenever Shiro found himself in yet another situation he couldn’t remember agreeing to. Yet another dark room, pants around his ankles, ass debauched with come or crisco.

It had been so difficult to walk out on Lotor again.

If he hadn’t met Keith, if he hadn’t spent weeks admiring the dark glitter of Keith’s hair in the sunny glow of the woodshop, he didn’t think he’d have had the strength to do it. It had been difficult enough to break his thought process free of Lotor’s assertions the first time. The second time was a goddamn miracle.

He wondered if Keith would become just as poisonous for him as Lotor had become in those last two years of their relationship. Controlling.

Keith broke the kiss and nipped up Shiro’s cheek to his ear. “Come back to me.”

Shiro scrunched up his eyes at his mistake and nodded.

Embarrassing.

How long would Keith tolerate this? No wonder Lotor had been so keen on controlling him, as Shiro seemed to have no aptitude for controlling himself.

Shiro kissed down Keith’s jaw, down Keith’s chest, down his stomach, kissing at last the velvety tip of Keith’s now only semi-interested dick, sucking lightly, licking down the shaft and up again to suck on the head until Keith sighed happily above him.

Had that night at the bar been a fluke? Did Shiro even remember how to enjoy sex anymore? Or was it now just a permanently ingrained, easily automated task? Kiss Lotor, suck his dick, hold still for whatever kinky activity Lotor had in mind that day, orgasm, trail the topography of Lotor’s body with his hands until they both fell asleep? Emotional presence not required.

He remembered it had been fun once, but he couldn’t remember why.

What had changed? It all seemed like ancient history, buried under millennia of routine and obedience.

Keith was likely going to regret signing up to this. It probably didn’t matter too much, so long as they could still get on at work. They’d easily pulled off acting like nothing was wrong after Keith had met Lotor for the first time, even though Keith hadn't even attempted to act civilly towards Lotor. Keith had taken one look at Lotor walking in and handling Shiro like he owned him and his face had shut down to pure loathing.

But the two of them, Keith and Shiro, had continued to get along just fine, carrying out the projects Coran had them working on in tandem with an easy cooperation.

They’d of course gotten along _better_ once Shiro had finally explained that, no, he hadn’t been cheating on Lotor, they’d been briefly broken up, they were still on the rocks, Shiro was still unsure how to proceed, but… Even if he’d never opened up about any of that, they probably would have been able to carry on just fine.

It helped enormously, probably, that both of them cared so much about the apprenticeship and the craft.

Perhaps things would have turned out more petty and bitter without that.

He let Keith fall from his mouth and kissed down from Keith’s dick to past his balls, nuzzling them out of the way as he went.

Unable to reach further, Shiro grabbed a handful of thigh to roll Keith onto his side, dropping down onto the mattress to eat Keith's ass, pulling up a muscular cheek for better access as he buried himself in that tight hole and moaned.

Keith’s legs kicked out in short jerks, hand reaching around blindly to feel out where Shiro’s head was. Finding Shiro’s hair, he pulled at it, tugging hard, and then, not getting the desired effect, cupped the back of Shiro’s head to reel him in tighter. Shiro laughed as much as he could with his tongue straining to dig into Keith’s clenching rim, heard Keith breathlessly chuckle and say, “Shut up. Feels good.”

It was nice. To be told something feels good. Maybe it was because this was only their second time together. Maybe he was holding Lotor to too high a standard, comparing their countless nights, which resulted in perfect archives of what they liked, to this fragile naissance of a partnership.

Shiro rolled Keith over onto his front for better access, spreading his asscheeks wide and making a drooly mess of Keith’s hole, slipping a thumb down to massage Keith’s taint until Keith was sighing happily with every breath.

Then he broke away, kissing and licking up Keith’s backside to his beautifully curved waist, biting at the dimples that seemed to melt flat in defense whenever he attacked them.

He kissed all the way up to Keith’s neck, turning his head to bite gently at Keith’s nape every which way until Keith laughed, letting his head fall forward, and canted his hips up to Shiro’s. Keith reached back and fit Shiro snugly to his rim, massaging it there, the tight muscle kissing Shiro’s tip until Shiro felt about to choke on sexual frustration.

He grabbed wildly for the lube.

“Impatient,” he growled into the velvety shell of Keith’s ear, before biting his lobe.

“Just making sure you’re here with me.”

Shiro kissed under Keith’s jaw, quickly coating himself and pushing a fingertip into Keith. “I’m here.”

“Good. Because I don’t like sharing.”

It was the first thing Keith had said on the subject that had an edge to it, and Shiro gazed at the profile of Keith’s cheekbone.

Shiro shuddered as he lined up and felt Keith’s hole try to swallow him. “You won’t have to. I promise.”

And he threw Lotor out of his head as he pressed in — because Keith deserved to be his only — because this was entirely, completely new. Pushing in from a position of control. Having to reassure a lover who was unsure where he stood with Shiro.

These weren’t things that had any parallels to his relationship with his ex.

Shiro shuddered as the slick hole enveloped him, Keith’s insides spreading and folding over to accommodate him in pulsing layers of muscles, tight rim gripping the base.

He went slow at first, remembering how Keith had said it had stung to fit someone of Shiro’s size the first night they were together, and that it had been a while since he’d been with anyone that large. But now, Keith pressed back on him and squeezed, trying to drive up the pace, and Shiro took that as his cue to press the small of Keith’s back until Keith was lying on his front, legs shut tight together, only his ass up in offering, the way Keith had said he preferred it. When they’d done all that tumbling, fucking from every position they could think to fit their bodies together, Shiro had learned so much of what Keith preferred.

His hands braced on Keith’s flexed waist, fingers pressing into hot skin, Shiro let loose, and Keith was forced to fight with the sheets to try to stay in place and not be dragged forward by the force of fucking.

And still, Keith kept grunting that he wanted it harder.

Shiro could barely hold out long enough to feel the first hard clench of Keith orgasming under him, and then he stood no chance at all, muscles flexing hard as his body tensed and threw him into release.

Shiro panted into Keith’s hair, nuzzling into it as his eyes decided to finally open, droopy and dazed. He pulled out and rolled off, sighing in contentment as he shifted Keith into his arms, kissing his face in every spot he could reach.

“I thought you said it stung last time?”

“I’ve been practicing every night since. On the off chance I’d ever get to bed you again.” Keith crinkled his nose. “Even when I found out about your ex. That kind of soured things for a couple days, but…” He grinned at Shiro, his eyes already struggling to stay open.

Shiro laughed and kissed him.

“Rest. I’m going to clean us up.”

✘✘✘✘✘✘✘

He’d just come back from the bathroom, ready to finally fall bonelessly into bed and sleep, when his phone started ringing. Crossing over quickly to turn off the vibrating before it woke Keith up, he saw his ex’s name.

He stared at it, then at the back of Keith’s head.

He declined the call.

After a few seconds, for good measure, he turned his phone off entirely. Just in case.

Then, with his ex dismissed from the room for good, he crawled into bed, gathering up Keith’s soft and lithe body in his arms.

Keith rolled over and clung tight.

“With me?” Keith asked, seemingly without any intention, still asleep.

“Yeah. I’m with you.”


End file.
